Independence
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: COMPLETE. As neither have any dependents, Tony and Ziva spend Independence Day together.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Rockets' red glare, people. Celebrate the country you love by blowing up a small piece of it.

Spoilers: Through the end of Season 8 and beyond. But not to infinity and beyond; that would just be presumptuous.

Summary: More than one part – probably two, maybe three. Assuming our canon couplings don't last, what will our intrepid singles do to celebrate Our Nation's™ Independence? Not to mention the 148th anniversary of Gettysburg, which is admittedly not as impressive as the sesquicentennial, but hey…give it two years.

* * *

><p>Skipping her run was always a mistake. Granted, Ziva had had every intention of running this morning – she was just going a little later because it was the Fourth of July and she didn't have to work. And was seven in the morning really that late on an off day? It was certainly earlier than she would have expected Tony to be awake on a day no one had called with mostly unexpected news of a dead petty officer. But, due to a quirk in scheduling, she had been home to answer his knocking as he stood on her doorstep with a case of beer. He was now sitting across from her at her kitchen counter, stirring a rapidly cooling cup of coffee and looking at her expectantly.<p>

"So."

"So?" She felt that patience was the best course of action for the moment. He would talk when he was ready.

"So…are you drunk yet?"

She raised an eyebrow. "We are drinking coffee."

"Ri-i-i-i-ight. You put the beer in the fridge." He continued to stir his coffee. "Too early for drinking."

"It is only seven-thirty."

"So it is."

"Perhaps we can drink a few later while we watch the…ballgame?"

"Ballgame." He smiled. "Yeah, we can watch the ballgame. I think the Nationals play at one, O's for the nightcap."

"Good."

"Good," he repeated quietly, continuing to stir.

Her patience gave out. "Are you planning to tell me why you are here?"

"Huh?"

"Tony, you are not in the habit of showing up at my apartment unannounced."

"Not for awhile."

It was her turn to silently focus on stirring her coffee.

He eventually continued, "I just thought…well…I wasn't doing anything since EJ decided I was more of a fling than a relationship guy and I didn't think you had any plans for the day since you kicked CI-Ray to the curb…"

"I did not…" she paused, not really wanting to discuss her breakup with Ray at the moment. "I did not have any plans, no. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, first – nap."

"Why did you not sleep in at your apartment?"

"I wanted to catch you before you _made_ plans."

"A phone call would have sufficed."

"I figured if you saw me in person in all my pathetic glory, it'd be impossible to say no to, y'know…hanging out…today. I mean, I know it's our day off and all, but you can give me my beer and send me out into the cruel, cold world…"

"It is not eight o'clock and already over eighty-five degrees. And the humidity…"

"All the more reason for you to skip the running and go back to bed. Though I do approve of the spandex. And tank top." He stood and walked to her thermostat, turning up the air conditioning. "I'll be on your sofa 'til…eh, get me up around ten. Then we'll make some plans."

"Tony…"

"It'll be fun." He grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa as he collapsed onto it. "You, me, baseball, explosions…"

"Explosions?"

"Well, fireworks." He yawned and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "Perfect way to cap your first Fourth of July as an American."

"Second," she corrected.

"Really?"

"We were…preoccupied last year."

"Oh. Right." He was quiet for a moment. "Are you going back to bed?"

"I am _going_ for my run."

"Really?"

"Really."

"So do you mind if I sleep in your bed while you're gone? Your couch is kinda lumpy. Plus, I'm tall."

She rolled her eyes. "If you insist on keeping the air on so high, I might as well take advantage. I will be on the treadmill."

"Hey, I need the air. I like to sleep under the covers. But I take it I'll be staying on the couch then."

"Whatever."

She was less than a minute into her warmup when he appeared in the door of her spare room. "I wasn't gonna poke through your drawers or anything."

"I thought you were napping."

"Yeah, about that. Can I sleep in the bed if I leave the door open?"

She increased the speed of the treadmill. "I never said you could not."

"You're, uh, gonna need a shower later, right?"

"Do not push your luck."

* * *

><p>Ziva stood in front of her fogged bathroom mirror, hairdryer in hand. With slightly more effort she could be sporting long, straight locks, but it was Independence Day; unrestrained curls somehow seemed more appropriate. It still took forever.<p>

When she was finished, she made her way to her bedroom. Tony was stretched out diagonally across the entire bed, snoring. She checked the time and made a decision. Her trip to the market on the next block took only twenty minutes, most of which had been spent arguing with the proprietor about her unusual purchase. It proved worthwhile, however, when she drew Tony out of her bedroom shortly after she started cooking. He was bleary-eyed, sniffing the air. "Bacon?"

She pushed the scrambled eggs in the neighboring pan with her spatula. "I am making breakfast."

"But…with bacon?"

"I thought you would like it."

"Of course I would! But…why do you have bacon? You're not _that_ American."

"I am sure there are plenty of Americans, both kosher and not, who do not eat bacon. But I thought you would appreciate it, given the holiday."

"I'm not sure what it has to do with the Fourth, but I would appreciate bacon anytime, up to and including on my deathbed."

"Eat too much of it and you…" she trailed off as she looked up from her stovetop. He was focused on the pans, mainly the sizzling one on her left. She thought she had made too much for one person, but she couldn't be sure with bacon. "This is not too much, is it?"

"What? No!" He licked his lips. "Just let it get a little more crispy. Mmmmm."

"I scrambled the eggs."

"Uh huh."

"I know you do not like them sunny side up."

"Uh huh."

"I am adopting a polar bear cub. I will be raising it in my bathtub and training it to sniff out drugs."

"Yup."

She shook her head and speared a piece of bacon with a fork. "Is this crispy enough?"

"Oh, perfect."

He made a grab, but she pulled it back. "I will get a plate for you. The eggs are ready, anyway. The toast is…" She turned as a ding sounded behind her. "Toast is also ready."

Tony eagerly reached for the plate as she piled food onto it. "I should stop by unexpectedly more often!"

"Do not make…" She changed her mind in mid-sentence. "Do not think there will always be bacon."

"So…sometimes pancakes?"

She poured herself a cup of coffee from the fresh pot before joining him at her coffee table with her own plate. "_If_ you behave."

"Add bee goo," he said with a full mouth. He was halfway through his pile of bacon when he spoke again. "I was thinkin'…"

"Really."

"Don't act so surprised. Anyway, I was thinkin' we could see the Nats' game in person instead of just on TV. Beer's more expensive, but…you can't say no to baseball and hot dogs on the Fourth."

She finished the last bite of her eggs. "Will we be able to get tickets?"

"Have you been paying attention? We'll probably get seats behind the dugout. The Nationals are almost as bad as Baltimore! It's almost enough to make me revert to the Yankee fannishness of my youth."

"I thought that we were supposed to be on the side of the Yankees on the Fourth of July."

"Nah, on the Fourth you've gotta go with Boston. I think they started this whole independence thing. You've got so much more to learn about being an American. At least you haven't said no to the baseball yet, even though I've suggested a National League team."

She opted not to ask for further clarification. "Won't it be a little crazy down near the Mall today?"

"Yeah, but…it's not like we're headed to the memorials. And we can park for free at the Navy Yard…"


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva progressively raised her head as her new red Nationals baseball cap slid further and further down her forehead. She couldn't fix it, as her hands were currently full. "Why did we pay eight dollars apiece for beer when there is a case you left in my refrigerator?"

"Sixteen, since we both got two. Besides, I bought this round." Tony grinned, tipping the bill of his matching cap upwards with one plastic cup, leaving a trace of foam along the edge. "I think this is our row. It's too bad that more people don't come to the park, but when you can walk in off the street and get seats this good…" He plopped down in a seat, sloshing beer over the rims of both cups. "Whoops."

She carefully set her own full cups down and was finally able to push her cap out of her eyes. "Why did you insist we buy these hats?"

"So everyone will know we're DC people!"

"I had my NCIS hat in the car."

"Not the same. Besides, you'd look like a dork wearing an NCIS hat at a ballgame. That sounds like something McGeek would do." He suddenly grabbed her hat off her head and began to bend the brim.

"What are you doing? That is brand new."

"Yeah, which is why you have to roll the brim. You can't just leave it flat like you were. Consider this lesson number one about being a baseball fan – you gotta fit in." He pushed the cap back onto her head. "There, much better."

She took it off and rearranged her hair before replacing it. She had to admit, whatever he had done had made it more comfortable. "Are these even the correct hats? Everyone else seems to have blue ones with a 'C' on them."

He glanced around. "Yeah, Cubs fans. They travel well."

"So the Nationals are playing the Cubs today?"

"Yup. Just fair warning – watch out for any drunken Chicago people as we get toward the later innings."

"How will I know they are from Chicago?"

"The Cubs fans, Ziva. Try to keep up. Not that they're any worse than other rabid fans, just keep an eye out if Chicago's down, since they're mainly here to see the Nats lose."

"They are going to lose?"

"No…maybe. I don't know. That's why they play the game."

"Oh." She decided to forget about the apparent politics of being a baseball fan and focus on the game, but it had not yet started. She frowned as she noticed the only man currently stretching on the field did not have what she would have called a professional athlete's physique. "At least we will have an excellent view when the game begins."

"Don't be so impatient. Just soak up the atmosphere." He held out a bag. "Have some peanuts."

"Thank you." The shell cracked between her fingers with a satisfying crunch. "What am I supposed to…"

"You're at a ballgame!" He swatted at her hand, causing her to drop the shell with the peanut still inside. "Toss 'em on the ground! That's baseball fan lesson number two."

She reached down and picked the shell out of one of her beers. "So the goal is to be as rude as possible?"

"Only where trash is involved, which includes trash talking. Say whatever you want when the other team is at bat. Just, y'know, watch out for…well, not that they'll be able to do anything to you, but…I forgot where I was going with this. I hope the vendors start coming by soon. I could use a hot dog."

"After all that bacon you had this morning?"

"That was hours ago!" He dropped a handful of peanut shells, narrowly avoiding her other beer. "Besides, it's Independence Day. Hot dogs are practically the law."

She wanted to ask if they were kosher, but as Tony had just managed to flag down a vendor, she held her tongue. One hot dog wouldn't kill her. She considered reevaluating that stance after the second bite. After washing it down with a long swig of beer, she asked, "Why are these so popular?"

"They're…well, these aren't, but usually they're damn good. Next time I'll take you to Camden Yards and we'll get Boog's BBQ."

She finished off her hot dog by hiding it under her seat amid the peanut shells. "This game has not even started and you are already planning to go to another?"

"Well, not _today_." He didn't move his arm from the back of her seat when she leaned back. "But I've got a good feeling about this one."

* * *

><p>Ziva leaned heavily on Tony's arm as they crossed 1st toward the Navy Yard. He'd insisted on making very good friends with the beer vendor in their section and she hadn't realized what was happening until it was a little too late. It was the fault of the hot dog she could still feel sitting heavily in her stomach, she was sure of it. And her hand hurt.<p>

"Whoo!" Tony took of his cap and waved it over his head at a large group of fellow fans they passed on the sidewalk. They cheered when he held up the large chunk of splintered wood he had been toting since they left their seats at the game. He turned back toward her, cap now askew on his head. "Ziva, wave to the people!"

She reluctantly complied and they cheered even louder. "I do not see what the big deal is."

"Uh, you caught the head of a shattered bat in your bare hand! Now while it's true that you did it to preserve the national treasure that is my face, it's still pretty damn impressive."

"Just a reflex," she said with a shrug, swaying slightly.

He grabbed her hand and raised it over their heads as he displayed the broken bat to another group of passing fans to draw another round of cheers. "See how popular you are? Bet you make SportsCenter."

She groaned quietly and concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other.

He continued to wave at people with the piece of wood. "I tell ya, nothing beats a walk-off, except maybe catching a chuck of bat. Whattya wanna do next? Head over and see what's happening on the Mall?"

"Tony, I think I need to sit down and…" Oh, God. The Mall was blocks away. Why did he even want to go there? Was it something related to being a baseball fan? Lesson eighty-eight? If you caught a bat you had to show as many people as possible? She suddenly saw an unoccupied bench and made a lunge toward it. "I just want to sit down for a bit."

"Hey, that's fine. No need to yank my shoulder from the socket." He sat beside her and stretched his feet out. "Aaaah."

She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. She just needed a few minutes to relax and collect her thoughts. A few minutes and she would be…just…fine…

"Hey, Ziva? Ziva!"

"Hm?"

"Are we just gonna sit on this bench all night?"

"We just sat down."

"Yeah, fifteen minutes ago. You were falling asleep on me."

"I was not."

"Please. There's been a steady stream of people walking past me and the bat and I've been going on about the best baseball movies since you put your head down. I figured out you weren't listening when I did my 'luckiest man on the face of the earth' speech and…" He reached over to push her hair behind her ear. "Well, next ballgame we'll just have to watch your drinking."

"I am not drunk. I am just tired."

"Aw, you gonna be able to stay up for the fireworks, sleepyhead? Will I have to carry you back to the car?"

"I told you, I am not…"

"Hey, me neither, but I'm definitely buzzed, so that limits our options."

She would have characterized the feeling as fuzzed rather than buzzed, but saw no point in arguing. "Options?"

"We can't go anywhere that requires driving, at least not for a couple hours and I spent all my cab fare on ballpark food. If you wanna go nap under your desk until it's time for the fireworks…I figured we can watch them from the roof at the office and we can't have you falling through the skylight, so…"

She looked over her shoulder and realized that he wasn't just babbling; they were sitting right outside the Navy Yard. The thought of curling up in a safe place for a few hours was tempting, but… "I do not want anyone in the office to think…anything."

"Fat chance." He smirked. "We could go grab some dinner."

"I do not want to think about food right now."

"Yeah, I'm kinda full, too. Ugh, definitely rethinking the funnel cake. Man, it was so good, though."

Ziva yawned and stretched her arms over her head. She was about to see how standing up felt. "What time is it?"

"Just before five."

Standing went well. She took a tentative step, then another. This could work. "Where shall we go?"

"Not for cocktails, I'm guessing."

"The weather is nice. We could walk around for a bit."

Tony pushed himself off the bench and sauntered over to where she was standing. "Says the woman who was ready to pass out on a bench on the sidewalk a few minutes ago."

"How about coffee, then?"

"Now you're talking sense. Coffee, then dinner, then fireworks." He saluted her with the bat. "But we have to go somewhere where my bat won't be considered a threat."


	3. Chapter 3

A loud voice cut through the crowded restaurant surprisingly clearly. "Seventy!"

Ziva hadn't been concerned about the pain in her left hand until it began to swell. Even then it was hardly a surprise; she had caught a flying piece of wood in it a few hours ago. It was sitting on the table, in fact, because she hadn't convinced Tony to put it in the car before dinner. She would have threatened to hit him if she'd been able to make a fist. She carefully wrapped her hand around her paper cup of very cold Diet Coke and stared at the bat.

Tony had already told the staff at behind the register and the people at the adjoining tables all about it. At least she had convinced him to eat at a place without anyone to wait on them. She could only imagine how bad he would be with someone forced to stop by their table every so often. Of course, she'd had to concede talking him out of Five Guys, in spite of her excellent argument that he'd thrown enough peanut shells on the ground today. Hopefully they would get their food soon so he would stop. She sighed loudly. "I really do not understand this strange American custom of throwing peanut shells anywhere you feel like throwing them."

"Sixty-nine!"

"Aw, man, they're going backwards now." He threw a glance over his shoulder then pointedly cracked a shell and brushed it off the table. She tilted her head to get a better view of the pile on the floor; it had a ways to go to catch up to the one left by the large family who had been leaving just as she and Tony had sat down. Another shell hit the floor and bounced. She turned her attention back to Tony, who flicked a shell in her direction. "It's your custom now, too, so get used to it." He picked at the remaining peanuts in the paper tray on the table. "I hope we get our stuff soon. I know it's only a five minute walk back to NCIS, but…"

"Seventy-one!"

"Oh, so close. You need a refill on soda or anything?"

She tightened her grip on the cup, not wanting to let go of her single source of relief. "Not at the moment."

"'Kay, but I think we could definitely use a peanut refill."

"Do not get more pea…"

"Seventy-two!"

"That's us!" He grabbed the bat and jumped out of his seat. "I'll go get it."

"Leave the…" she trailed off as he was already halfway to the counter. She focused on trying to unclasp her hand from her cup. She needed her other hand to accomplish the feat. This would have to be a one-handed meal. She settled her left hand in her lap, palm up. Was that bruising or just shadows?

She was still trying to decide if her hand warranted a visit to the doctor when Tony plopped back into seat, dropping the bat on the unfinished peanuts, scattering them across the table. "The fry guy was impressed. Said he saw it on TV and the announcers were complimenting your reflexes. Also, the fact that you didn't spill your beer." He abruptly buried his face in the paper bag he'd brought back with him.

She furrowed her brows. "What are you not telling me?"

"What? Nothing? Uh…y'know, just that you've obviously sobered up. Your little bench-nap did wonders for you." He lifted the top bun off the burger he'd just unwrapped. "Ugh, jalapeños. That's you." He set the second foil-wrapped burger in front of himself before tearing the paper bag in half and pouring in the fries that hadn't already spilled from their cup. The last crumbs from the bottom went directly into his mouth. "Oh, hot, hot, hot."

"Animal." Collecting it carefully in her right hand, she took a bite of her cheeseburger and decided if Tony dragged her to another Nationals' game, she would insist they eat here first. It wouldn't be a hard sell; he was clearly enjoying his bacon double cheeseburger.

"Mmmmmm." For some reason, he was taking large bites and making a show of chewing them. "This is so good. I'd offer you a bite, but I know you're all about the kosher thing, sooo…" He took another large bite and grinned.

She grinned right back, wondering if he thought pork products were the only thing that made food non-kosher. The cheeseburger was really too good for her to enlighten him. Swallowing before she spoke, she said, "You really have an unhealthy obsession with bacon. What time do the fireworks start?"

"Not for another hour or so. We could sit here and eat peanuts 'til go time if you want."

She took another look at the pile on the floor beside their table, grimacing as she jarred her hand.

"Okay, so we won't do that. But…eat some fries! I got the large so we could share!"

She reached for her cup with her left hand. The cold really did help.

* * *

><p>When they arrived back at NCIS on foot, the parking lot was surprisingly full. Ziva suddenly hoped all these people were here for some emergency that didn't involve the Major Case Team.<p>

Tony used his ID to open the front door of the building. "Guess we weren't the only ones with the clever idea to come up here to watch the fireworks."

They took the elevator to the top floor. She let him lead the way to the stairs with roof access. She had been on the roof several times, mainly to assess the accessibility of the bullpen through the skylight, but it had been for her own piece of mind rather than any official assignment. If anyone asked, she could state with some confidence that anyone coming in via that route would need lots and lots of stitches. She pushed the thought of medical attention out of her mind and followed Tony out onto the roof.

The view was better than she remembered, probably because she had only been here in daylight before. The brightly lit buildings really added something to the experience. Tony hadn't seemed to notice. "Why don't I know most of these people? Maybe it's the casual attire. Tough to spot some people when they aren't in suits or… Oh, hey, there's Palmer with the future Bride of Frankenstein. And the Director is here with his Vancelings." He stepped abruptly to the left, grabbing her arm low enough to draw a repressed cry that she managed to turn into a sound like a hiccough. "Let's go say hi to Palmer."

She gave a quick nod to Director Vance, who had just turned in their direction. "Tony, you do not have to…"

He ignored her, as he was shouting across the roof, brandishing his bat, "Hey, Palmer! Check it out! Broken bat! You can see Zimmerman's name right on it!"

"Wow, Ziva, that must have hurt."

Tony's face fell at Jimmy's reaction. "Wait, how do you know that Ziva caught it?"

"She's the number one Top Play on SportsCenter. Brina, you remember Ziva and Tony, right?"

"Of course!" Jimmy's surprisingly bubbly fiancée reached out to shake hands enthusiastically. "Yeah, we saw you on TV. That was so cool! And you made the funniest face!" She pointed at Tony while producing a twisted expression of terror and possible constipation. "We rewound it a bunch of times on the DVR!"

"Oh, that's…uh…"

Another voice unexpectedly joined the conversation. "Impressive play, David."

She turned and smiled. "Thank you, Director."

"Is that the bat?"

Tony reluctantly held it out.

"I thought they usually sent security to collect these from fans, but maybe they decided it was best not to mess with you. The reflexes make me glad you're on our side." He passed the bat back to Tony and folded his arms over his chest. "I'm torn between disappointment that you weren't identified with NCIS and gratitude that DiNozzo wasn't either."

"Because he did this?" Brina made the face again.

Vance chuckled. "I can see why Palmer is so eager to marry you. Well, enjoy the fireworks. Try not to fall off the roof when the booms start, DiNozzo."

"I…I'm fine with explosions! Gunshots…"

Vance waved his hand dismissively without turning back.

"Great. Now I look like a jerk on national television."

Ziva looped her arm through Tony's. "Well, now…"

"Yeah, yeah, don't even say it."

"I was not…"

"Sure you weren't." He turned and smiled. "Any plans for after the fireworks?"

"The ER?"

"What? Why? Are you gonna hurt me?"

"Not at all. It is just that I think my hand is broken."

"Ziva, you can't be serious."

"Ssh. The fireworks are starting."

He leaned over to whisper in her ear as the first booms echoed across the Potomac. "For the record, it's fireworks, not the opera. You don't have to be quiet. And you should have said something earlier about your hand."

She allowed her gaze to drift from his eyes to the fireworks and back. "I did not want to miss this."


	4. Chapter 4

Ziva sat calmly in the waiting room at the hospital. She had expected it to be busy, but not _this_ busy. There were people with injuries from backyard fireworks, people who had gotten too much sun, people who had had too much to drink and fallen… Metro had accompanied the arrival of several ambulances half an hour earlier, probably to keep track of the belligerent suspects in what appeared to be a fairly serious drunken brawl. Tony had gone over to show off the bat to an officer he'd recognized, who had reciprocated with the broken beer bottle he'd pried away from one of the suspects during the ride in the ambulance. Ziva was content to wait with her ice pack and the x-ray Jimmy had taken after finding out why they'd declined a post-fireworks ice cream sundae. It was just as well; she felt like she wouldn't need to eat again for a few days after everything she'd consumed today.

On cue, Tony arrived with two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag. "I couldn't find the cafeteria, but they have a Dunkin Donuts down near the gift shop. I was gonna get you a balloon too, but they were closed."

"Thank you," she said, taking the coffee but waving off the donuts in the bag and not mentioning that she would prefer flowers. "How can you still be eating?"

"What? I've had three meals today and this is dessert." He finished his donut and licked jelly from his finger. "Can I see your x-ray again?"

"Why?"

"If Donnelly comes back through I'm gonna show it to him. That'll top his broken bottle."

She shook her head but handed over the envelope with the film inside. At least the coffee was okay. She had finished the cup by the time she was finally called to have her hand examined.

A surly nurse blocked the way as Tony tried to follow her through the double doors. "Is he with you?"

"Yes."

The nurse was eyeing him suspiciously. "Family?"

"He is fine to come in."

He juggled the coffee, bag of donuts and bat in his hands to hold up the large envelope. "I brought her x-ray!"

"Mm hmm. And why are you holding a piece of jagged wood, sir?"

Ziva sighed. "He has not put it down since this afternoon."

"She caught it," he added proudly.

"She _caught_ it?" The nurse made a move toward a phone on the wall. "Sir, are you saying you hit her with that bat?"

"Me? No! The bat hit her!"

"Ma'am, please step away from your boyfriend. Bats don't hit people on their own. I'm sure Metro PD would be happy to come over here so you can file charges."

Unable to come up with another response, Ziva burst out laughing, leaving Tony to flounder. "No, it's not like that! We were at the Nats' game this afternoon and Ryan Zimmerman broke his bat on a foul into the seats, the bat came at us and Ziva caught it! And we're just friends!"

Ziva had finally recovered enough to offer some support. "He is telling the truth. Apparently it has been on television and everything."

The nurse was still wary. "And why, if the injury happened this afternoon and you had a radiograph taken did you wait until almost midnight to seek treatment?"

Ziva lied, "I had not realized how serious my hand was. I thought it was just sore and bruised until a doctor friend of ours saw it during the fireworks. He was kind enough to take the x-ray." She omitted any mention of Autopsy; the nurse was skeptical enough.

When she had finished asking questions and taking vital signs, the nurse reluctantly left Ziva and Tony alone in a curtained examination area. "So the Autopsy Gremlin has been promoted to 'our doctor friend' now?"

It wasn't what she had expected him to mention. "I do not see the problem."

"It makes us sound like the new couple at the country club or something. Speaking of which, why did that nurse automatically think I was your boyfriend? Or that I would whack you with a bat then bring it when I took you to the hospital?"

There it was. "I am sure she has seen worse in cases of domestic abuse."

"Clearly, that lady has never met ninja Moussad warrior or she'd know that me with a bat is not a threat. She'd be asking _me_ the battered spouse questions." He pushed himself up onto the gurney beside her. "Although I can't complain that they take that kind of stuff seriously."

She grabbed his hand with her good one to stop him from eating a second donut. "Have I ever hit you hard enough to send you to the hospital?"

"Well, when we were sparring that one time…"

"Oh, please. You had a padded helmet and I barely grazed you. You just faked a concussion to get out of sexual harassment training that afternoon."

"This is going to be a good one, I can tell." The both looked to see who had interrupted them and saw a middle-aged woman in a white coat. "I'm Dr. Berg. The nurse tells me we're dealing with a broken hand? Would that be an excused absence from, what, trust falls at the team building workshop?"

Before Ziva could stop him, Tony, donut forgotten on the gurney, was again launching into his story about the bat. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>"Oh, come on. You must have a Sharpie somewhere in the house!"<p>

Ziva was about to risk a cast on her right hand. She counted to five in her head using at least seven numbers and felt her fist relax. Tony could rummage through all the kitchen drawers he wanted if it distracted him from questions about how she planned to shower without assistance while her left hand and forearm were immobilized. For some reason, he wanted to write on her cast. He wasn't going to find a marker tonight, but it was going to be difficult to stop him at work tomorrow. Resigned, she sat on the couch and built a small tower of pillows on which to support her left arm. The painkillers she had gotten at the hospital were still working quite well, especially whatever was in the pill bottle; she'd taken two during the car ride home. It didn't even seem odd that Tony was now looking in the refrigerator for his marker.

He eventually plopped down beside her. "You've got way more knives than any one person needs for strictly kitcheny things. Pretty much makes the gun under the dishtowels superfluous." He took a swig from the bottle of beer she'd just noticed he had.

"You could have offered me one."

"Nope. You got the pills, so I get all the booze."

That was hard to argue. "Donuts, beer. Do you ever stop?"

He grinned. "I'm a growing boy." He waited for her to reply with an expectant look, but all she could do was blink at him. "That was an opening for you to mock my supposed love handles." She continued to blink uncomprehendingly as she tried to place the idiom. He patted her head. "Yeah, I think it may be bedtime for you. Want me to hang around?"

"May as well. You are going to have to pick me up for work in a few hours anyway. I cannot drive with this hand."

"You can't drive when you've got two good hands." She had the vague notion that she should take offense to the insult, but it seemed like too much effort. He was looking at her again. "You should be staying home sick tomorrow."

She tried to change her voice to a deeper register. "Day off for a broken hand? Which one? Well, you're not left-handed are you, David?"

"That was a terrible Gibbs impression."

"You obviously do not remember Gibbs' sling."

"Good point. Hm. Well, you're gonna have to sleep on the couch, then, because as I established this morning, it's not going to be comfortable for me."

She yawned. "Bring me a blanket."

"I was kidding, Ziva."

"And I will try not to kick you in my sleep."

He stood eagerly when she rose. "Need help putting on the PJs? Or even just taking off those clothes but not replacing them with other ones?"

"Do not make me change my mind about the couch."

He sank back into his seat. "As long as I'm allowed to sleep with no pants. Lemme know when it's safe to go to bed."

She was half-asleep under the covers when he walked into the bedroom some time later.

"Way to tell me I had the all clear."

"Sorry."

She watched him strip to his boxers with no comment as he said, "I was watchin' SportsCenter. Caught the highlights from our game. They were all impressed with you. Top play and everything. Holy reflexes, Batman!"

"You do not seem happy about it."

"Nah, it's not that. Just…I really was making a stupid face."

She yawned through a giggle.

"Yeah, yeah. Sweet Vicodin dreams, my ninja."

She decided to let it go. She could kick him when the alarm went off in a few hours.

The End


End file.
